


This Can't Be Happening

by writeitininkorinblood



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Blood, College AU, Death, F/F, Guns, M/M, Modern Era, Violence, school shooting, such cheerful tags...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-27 19:22:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6296884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeitininkorinblood/pseuds/writeitininkorinblood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a shot rang out across the college campus, everything went to hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This Can't Be Happening

**Author's Note:**

> This is about a school shooting, and it comes with all the trigger warnings that implies (guns/violence/etc), but does not include gore.
> 
> I had an idea of one event and one line of dialogue tying multiple characters together, but in different situations. This fic was born.

When a shot rang out across the college campus, everything went to hell. It was something every student had read about and seen on TV, but experiencing it was something different. It was a case of ‘grab the person closest to you and hide’. Kids crawled under desks and barricaded themselves into supply cupboards; anywhere that felt safer than being out in the open. With every shot, the tension got worse. Each bullet could be hitting a person and, if the screams that echoed down empty hallways were anything to go by, at least some of them were. 

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_

“This can’t be happening,” Race mumbled, his voice shaky as he dragged his hands though his hair. He and four other students in the corridor had sprinted for the janitor’s closet, and he’d been first to claim a bucket to sit down, afraid his legs wouldn’t hold him up.

The cupboard didn’t lock from the inside and they all knew they had to be quiet. From the sounds of it the person, or people, with the gun were on the other side of the school, but it didn’t seem worth risking death by being loud. 

“Well it is fucking happening, isn’t it, asshole,” one of the other students growled under his breath. He wasn’t in the mood for inane comments from idiots and he didn’t want to think about what was happening on the other side of the door.

Race knew that voice. He hadn’t looked at the other students who’d barrelled into the cupboard with him and he’d kept his eyes averted from anyone else, not wanting someone to see the undiluted fear in his eyes, but his head snapped up when this student spoke.

Spot Conlon. His sometimes friend, often hook-up and always adversary. Race couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t happy to see Spot. If he’d had to make a list of people he was concerned about; and he really, really didn’t have to want to make that list because goddamnit those were his friends and they might be dying; then Spot would be pretty near the top, despite how much they fought. The cupboard might not be bomb-shelter safe, but there was an immeasurable sense of relief behind seeing Spot alive and relatively safe when there were still gunshots going off outside.

Spot looked down at Race, trying to force contempt into his gaze, but he couldn’t manage it. He lasted five seconds before crumpling, showing his own fear. Race watched as a film of panic fell over Spot’s eyes and, without giving it a moment of thought, he reached up and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly like there was nothing else keeping him held down to the earth. Spot jumped in surprise; they didn’t do this, they weren’t out at school. Even if there were only three other students in the cupboard, it felt incredibly public to hold hands with another guy. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to let go. He clung to Race’s hand because the alternative was to break down and lose himself to fear, and that wasn’t an option. 

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

“This can’t be happening.” Davey whispered, clenching his fists to stop tremors shaking through them.

He’d been studying with Jack in the library when they’d heard the gunshots. Well, he’d been studying, Jack had been sketching him studying. And then they’d heard the crack of bullets leaving a barrel, and close by, and their work had been quickly abandoned. For a moment everything seemed frozen; no one moved and no one spoke, but the librarian cut the silence and gestured for everyone to get under the desks. There were close to 30 people in the library, the door didn’t lock, there was no cupboard to hide in or window that was easy to climb out of, and whoever it was that was shooting a gun was close enough that Jack was sure his ears had popped when the bullet was fired. Those didn’t seem like good odds. He’d pulled Davey under the desk and into a hug, making sure their limbs were as out of sight as possible before allowing himself to let out shaky breaths against Davey’s neck.

“It’s okay, Dave. It’ll all be okay,” he mumbled, his words lacking conviction considering he didn’t believe them himself. 

Davey started to mouth something and it took Jack a few seconds to realise it was a prayer. He held him closer, wishing there was a way to wake up from what felt like a nightmare. There was nothing he could do. The only way out of the library was the main door and, even as Jack considered making a run for it, he heard footsteps cross from the squeaky lino of the hall onto the soft padding off the library carpet. Those weren’t the hurried footsteps of a student looking for safety, they were heavy and calculated. Jack squeezed his eyes shut and tried to rearrange his body so he was covering Davey as much as possible. 

When the next shot was fired, there was no mistaking the fact that the shooter, whoever they were, was in the room with them. A scream followed, wracked with pain and hysteria. Davey let out a cry, muffling it against Jack’s shoulder. He didn’t recognise the voice, wasn’t even sure he could even tell his fellow students apart by a shriek of terror, but that was someone getting shot and it was happening not twenty metres from him. Silent tears tracked down his face and he clung to Jack, holding his breath. If he didn’t breathe than he didn’t make noise, and if he didn’t make noise then he was invisible. This person wouldn’t be able to find him, or Jack. He flinched at every bullet that was fired, counting maybe four or five. He could tell Jack was trying to shield him and he’d argue and fight him on it, but that was only going to draw attention to them. They weren’t there. They couldn’t be there.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

“This can’t be happening,” Sarah screamed, her voice shrill but a whisper. Her hands were shaking and, if she wasn’t so afraid to make noise she’d be yelling and shrieking and raising hell.

Katherine had been walking her to class across the courtyard when the gun had been fired. They’d shared one look before both making the same decision: run. The shots seemed to come from further into the school, and they had what seemed like a clear path out onto the road. It was no doubt a better idea than hanging around outside, waiting to be a victim. 

Grabbing Katherine’s hand, Sarah had run faster than she’d ever run before. They’d made it to the road, with a handful of other students, but they couldn’t bring themselves to leave the school behind. Gunshots were ringing out sporadically and Sarah was terrified that each one was being aimed at someone she loved. She had her girlfriend by her side, but her brother was still inside somewhere, as was his boyfriend and all of her friends. Katherine had her arms around her, but it could hardly calm her down. She didn’t know what to say, so she just said nothing, opting instead for nonverbal comfort.

The police had appeared after a while, setting up a triage centre and a safe zone, with men in riot gear advancing towards the school. Small groups of students were making it out numerous exits every few minutes, running for the safe zone, and Sarah fruitlessly scanned each group of them for Davey. Each shot felt like it was aimed at her heart. She knew there were hundreds of students still inside and she felt for every one of them, but if her brother died she’d never see the world in the same colours again. Everything would feel a little darker. The gunshots kept coming. Twenty, then thirty. She hid her face against Katherine’s shoulder, wishing she was anywhere else and that anything else was happening. She was aware of a warm hand rubbing up and down her back, and students milling around her, but she felt like a black hole. Her phone was sweaty in her grasp, but she couldn’t bring herself to text Davey. If his phone wasn’t off then it might ring and let the person with the gun know where he was, and she couldn’t be to blame for his death. And if she didn’t get a text back she was going to assume the worst when she wanted,  _needed_ , to remain hopeful.

Clinging to Katherine like her girlfriend was a life raft, Sarah prayed.


	2. Sprace Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Race would later find out that he hid in the supply cupboard for an hour before the shooting stopped and the door was opened by SWAT team members as they looked for survivors and bodies, but it felt like they’d been there for far, far longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By popular demand, this story now has an epilogue! One chapter for each couple. This is Spot and Race's.

Race would later find out that he hid in the supply cupboard for an hour before the shooting stopped and the door was opened by SWAT team members as they looked for survivors and bodies, but it felt like they’d been there for far, far longer. He hadn’t dropped Spot’s hand for a second, even when they got confused glances from the other students hiding with them. If it had been any other situation he would have let go like he’d been scalded, but if he was going to die then he didn’t want to do it alone.

When footsteps walked past the door outside, Race squeezed his eyes and lips shut, desperate not to be the one to give them away. A single gunshot out in the hallway had him gripping Spot’s hand so tightly it had to have hurt. His entire body felt ice cold except from where his skin touched Spot’s, and he needed that point of warmth to remind him that he was still alive. He didn’t want to think about how many of those outside weren’t. The footsteps faded away down the corridor and Race couldn’t help but let out a rough sigh of relief. He opened his eyes and found Spot’s gaze, wincing when he saw the beginning of tears in the other boy’s eyes. Spot didn’t cry. He held eye contact, trying to pretend there was nothing bad happening outside. If he thought about it, he’d crumble.

When the door finally opened, Spot stepped in front of Race. He didn’t think about it; he just knew that he couldn’t watch Race get shot. If whoever was on the other side of the door systematically shot everyone in the cupboard, then he wanted to go first. He couldn’t see them target the boy he cared about so much, and he couldn’t hear him scream in agony. And if the shooter just shot randomly and then left, maybe Race would be okay if Spot was standing in front of him. But Race wasn’t having any of it. He jumped to his feet, standing beside Spot and facing the door as bravely as he could. He wouldn’t watch Spot die either. It was both of them or neither of them, and Race realised that he was far more invested in Spot then he’d promised he’d let himself become, but that wasn’t highest on his list of problems.

The door opened impossibly slowly, but when Race saw it was the SWAT team on the other side he let out a strangled sob. He hadn’t been expecting to live through the day, and he wasn’t alone; the other students in the janitor’s closet clearly felt the same way. Most of them hadn’t even known each other before the shooting had begun, but the emotion of relief was too vivid not to share and everyone was clinging to one another like they were drowning.

Spot didn’t make a noise, but he was too overwhelmed not to need an outlet for his emotions and he wasn’t about to cling to a stranger. Instead he pulled Race in for a hug, ignoring the SWAT team’s questions about whether they were okay as he buried his face in Race’s shoulder and finally let a tear fall. His breathing was shaky and ragged, and he needed comfort too much to care that everyone at school though he was straight and he was somewhat contradicting that by burrowing into the chest of another boy. Race held him tightly, never wanting to let go. He didn’t want this to be real. He’d heard so many gunshots, and ear-splitting screams that he was never going to be able to forget. People had to be dead. He was selfishly glad it wasn’t him or Spot, but it was someone. Someone’s child, sibling, friend.

The school was eerily quiet as they were lead outside to join the rest of the students. Race didn’t want to look around in case there was blood or bodies, but Spot couldn’t help the morbid fascination that came over him as he obediently, for once, followed the officer from the SWAT team. The library was already cornered off with tape, but he could see through. There was blood on the floor, and sheet-covered bodies, as well as paramedics working on the wounded. A shriek of pain had Spot pulling Race slightly closer to him as they were ushered past. He hadn’t realised quite how lucky he was until that moment, and he promised himself he’d never forget it.


	3. Javid Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Other than a few quiet sniffles, the library had descended back into a stagnant calm, broken only by the footsteps and the bullets of the man playing god. He stopped at the desk next to Davey’s, surprising the girl underneath with a salacious “peek-a-boo” before firing a bullet at her without even giving her time to scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is definitely the most graphic of the fics in this AU, and comes with content warnings for blood, death and injury, as well as the guns and violence of the others. And also homophobic slurs as well. This isn’t the fluffiest of pieces I’ve written…

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

The voice rang through the library, piercing the fragile silence. It was eerily gentle, dripping with a taunting melody, and it sent chills up Davey’s back. He clung to Jack tighter, with absolutely no intention of moving. He couldn’t if he wanted to, his legs felt like they had frozen to concrete. Jack kissed the top of Davey’s head, holding on just as fiercely as he was held. He was losing hope that they were going to get through this alive.

The footsteps continued further into the library; further towards Jack and Davey. Whoever it was seemed to be taking their time. They were picking off students one by one, mumbling things Jack couldn’t discern before firing off one or two shots. Screams and wails of pain were building up, with each new victim’s pleas echoing around the room. 

“Shut up, all of you!” The shooter yelled, shooting one, two, three times until most of the crying stopped. Jack wasn’t sure how many people had stifled their shouts and how many were no longer alive to get the chance. 

Other than a few quiet sniffles, the library had descended back into a stagnant calm, broken only by the footsteps and the bullets of the man playing god. He stopped at the desk next to Davey’s, surprising the girl underneath with a salacious “peek-a-boo” before firing a bullet at her without even giving her time to scream. Her body was pushed backwards from the force of the shot, thudding against the side of the desk right beside Davey’s head. He winced, trying not to cry. He’d known her. Not well; she’d been in one of his AP History classes, but he knew her face and her name, and her opinions on the founding fathers. Now she was probably dead.

Jack shuffled a little to free one of his hands so he could grab Davey’s and hold it tightly. He’d never felt so helpless. He wanted Davey out,  _safe_ , and he wanted to help all the other kids in the library. Get the injured ones out and to hospital, get the traumatised ones to family or friends who could help. But it was obvious that any move to try any of that was going to result in him getting shot, and he didn’t want to die. He had grand life plans involving Davey, Santa Fe, and two adopted kids, and the only person who got to say that wasn’t going to happen was Davey. Not some lunatic with a gun and, apparently, a vendetta against high school students.

When feet went past the front of the desk, Jack thought for one moment that they’d managed to escape. But they weren’t that lucky. The shooter caught sight of the drawing Jack had abandoned on the desk before he’d dived underneath, and he paused to look at it. It was a charcoal sketch of Davey, bent over his work studying. Or that was how it had started out. And then Jack had been distracted by Davey’s hands as they tapped out a rhythm on the desk and the way he was biting his bottom lip in concentration, and he’d started drawing rough sketches of his fingers and his mouth. It was no longer the most decent drawing he’d ever done (although it was from the most inappropriate) and Jack frowned when he realised he’d left it on the desk. The shooter scooped it up with a smirk and Jack ground his teeth together when he heard it being torn in half. He’d liked those drawings; he’d wanted to see Davey’s cheeks turn that perfect shade of pink when he realised how intently Jack had been studying his lips. Just one more thing the shooter had ruined; even if it was by no means the most severe. 

The drawing worked as a tip off that there’d been someone sat at this desk before everything had gone to hell, and that meant there was probably someone under it now. A cruel smile on his face, the shooter bent down to look under the desk. When he saw found Davey and Jack, his face twisted into something even more brutal.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here? Couple of fags?”

Davey knew he should let go of Jack and pretend they were just friends who were clinging to each other in a crisis; that was probably going to keep them alive for a little while longer. But Jack was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. Lifting his head from Jack’s shoulder, Davey defiantly stared back at the man who’d caused so much death and suffering in so little time. He seemed vaguely familiar, and Davey thought he could place him amongst the graduating class a few years back. Long greasy hair, tied back with a strip of fabric, and dirt-marked clothing would suggest that he hadn’t done well for himself. Not to mention the gun in his hand and the bloodstains up his arms and trousers. Looking back, Davey didn’t know how he’d managed not to tremble, but he stayed firm and challenging. He was horribly aware of how Jack was shielding him at his own expense, and his mind was racing through ways to try and fix that. 

Jack himself was firmly not turning around. He was almost certain he was going to die, and he wanted Davey to be the last thing he saw before he did. He hated that Davey was probably going to see him get shot, but he was more concerned that he wouldn’t be able to protect his boyfriend once that had happened. Kissing Davey’s collarbone, Jack hid his face and waited for the gun to go off.

“I’m almost tempted to just shoot one of you and make the other watch,” the shooter said, laughing viciously. 

Even as the words chilled Jack’s blood, they were oddly comforting. Maybe Davey would be okay.

He didn’t have much time think about it. A shot rang out as the gun was fired and, for a moment, Jack couldn’t feel a thing. Lifting his head, he quickly scanned Davey’s face for any suggestion that he’d been hit, but then pain blossomed in his own foot. Looking down, he saw blood. His jaw fell open, but he couldn’t force any sound out as a wave of nausea rolled over him, raw shock flooding his senses. He was too overwhelmed to brace for another shot, but one didn’t come. Instead a yell sounded from the library door.

Jack missed much of what happened next. He was aware of a roughly aimed bullet slamming into the wood above his boyfriend’s head, sending splinters showering over them as he managed a fragmented prayer of thanks that it had missed its mark. SWAT team members surged into the room, and Jack was too numb to count the gunshots but he’d confidently estimate that there were a lot. As soon as the shooter moved from their desk, attempting to flee the SWAT team’s bullets, Davey fussed over Jack as best he could. He mumbled attempts at reassurances and put pressure on the wound, trying not to gag as warm blood seeped through his fingers. It could have been worse. He knew that, but it didn’t seem to have much purchase when his boyfriend was catatonic from pain and gunshots were still ricocheting around the room.

When emergency paramedics moved in they took one look at Jack and moved on, leaving Davey with instructions to keep pressure on the wound and try to keep Jack conscious. Davey knew they had to triage victims and, as much pain as he was in, Jack wasn’t about to die. Davey clung to that with everything he had. Jack was going to be alive to see the next morning and the next year and the next decade. They were going to be fine, or as fine as they could be considering what they’d seen.

Keeping Jack conscious was surprisingly easy; letting him go was not. When the more severely wounded students had been attended to they came to move Jack onto a stretcher, but Davey didn’t want to lose him. As long as he could see him, he knew Jack was okay, and that reassurance was all he was hanging onto. He crawled out from under the desk and grabbed Jack’s hand, tears in his eyes.

“Sir, please step back,” the medic explained, her voice firm and commanding. “You can’t-”

“No,” Davey protested. He was usually the first to obey commands, if he thought they were sensible, but he couldn’t give in to this one. “Let me go with him. Please,” he begged, smiling a little when he felt Jack squeeze his fingers.

The medic sighed, clearly used to difficult people when she was trying to do her job. “Are you a family member?”

“He’s my boyfriend.” Davey prayed that wouldn’t mean they were less likely to let him go with Jack. “ _Please_. I saw them shoot him, I need…” He trailed off, holding back a sob.

“Sir, he’s going to be okay.” The medic’s eyes had gone soft. It was clear that Davey was upset and traumatised, and she couldn’t help but sympathise. But they had a protocol that they followed for a reason. “You need to give a witness statement to the police, and find your family. And his. That’s what will help him most.”

“But I-” Davey started to protest again before a weak voice, heavy with forced joviality, interrupted him.

“Dave, I’m fine,” Jack said, kissing Davey’s hand before gently encouraging him to let go. “Find Sarah; check she’s okay. And Kath, and the boys. I’ll be fine. I love you.” His face was white with pain and they were surrounded by the injured and the dead, but he wasn’t going to forget those words.

Davey frowned. He didn’t like leaving Jack, but everyone but him seemed in agreement that it was for the best. The medic seemed relieved that Jack had spoken up and didn’t even protest as Davey pressed a desperate kiss to Jack’s lips. It seemed to amuse and delight her patient, despite the pain he was in, and placate his boyfriend, and that was exactly what she needed.  
“Love you, too. Text me when you can,” Davey ordered, smiling sadly as Jack nodded and was carried away.

He waited for a long moment before finding the courage to look around. There were still bodies under some of the desks, covered with sheets that were already stained through with blood. Most of the wounded had already been evacuated, but the blood from where they’d lain still remained. The scene brought bile to Davey’s throat and he was infinitely grateful when a policeman hurried over to him and began to guide him out of the library and through the corridors of the school. Jack was right, he had to find Sarah. She was probably as worried about him as he was about her, and she’d be concerned about Katherine too, if they weren’t together. If he couldn’t be with the love of his life, he’d wait for news with his sister and his friends, because god knows he couldn’t be alone if he was going to make it to the end of the day without crumpling.


	4. Newsbians Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone gravitated to Sarah and Katherine. Sarah almost wished they wouldn’t because there was no sign of Davey or Jack and she was getting more and more worried with every moment. All she wanted was to know that her brother was okay, but instead she had to deal with comforting a dozen of their shaken friends. There were only two people unaccounted for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final epilogue!

Everyone gravitated to Sarah and Katherine. Sarah almost wished they wouldn’t because there was no sign of Davey or Jack and she was getting more and more worried with every moment. All she wanted was to know that her brother was okay, but instead she had to deal with comforting a dozen of their shaken friends. There were only two people unaccounted for.

“You holding up?” Katherine asked, pulling Sarah in for yet another hug and kissing the top of her head.

Sarah just shook her head, hiding against Katherine’s shoulder and hugging back tightly. If there was one thing there was no shortage of, it was people embracing. Everyone seemed to be holding onto someone else like they never wanted to let go, an innate reaction after having come so close to losing them. Even Spot and Race were barely taking a step away from each other. If it were any other day, they would have been questioned and teased, but they’d told their story of hiding inside the school and no one wanted to cross-examine the one thing that might be keeping them from falling apart. Skittery was barely staying calm, bouncing his leg up and down to a rhythm no one else could hear.

The police had taken witness statements from them all and their families were slowly appearing to take them home and undoubtedly coddle them for the rest of time. And Jack and Davey still weren’t there. Sarah had scanned every group of students, now reduced to occasional individuals, leaving the school and there was no sign of their missing friends. She’d heard a police officer mention something about bodies and her blood was slowly turning icy as it looked more and more possible that Davey and Jack were among those bodies. She’d almost given up hope when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“Sarah!”

She turned around and was promptly knocked backwards by her brother giving her an enthusiastic hug that she returned with just as much force. Never had she been more relieved. The idea of having to go home and tell Les and her parents that, as far as she knew, Davey was dead had been eating away at her. Stepping back, she scanned her eyes over him to make sure he was okay. It didn’t take long for her to spot the bloodstains on his clothes and his hands, gasping and trying to find the injury.

“It’s not mine. It’s Jack’s,” Davey explained, squeezing his eyes shut as he relived the gunshot and the way his boyfriend’s blood had seemed to pour through his hands.

“Davey…” Sarah took a shaky step back and only managed not to trip over when Katherine caught her arm and held her close.

“He’s okay. I mean, he’s alive. He’s alive, Sarah.” The words brought a sob to Davey’s lips. He had worked so hard not to break down in the library or in front of the medics or policemen, but he was finally with people he trusted and couldn’t stop convulsive gasps shaking his body as tears fell down his cheeks, dripping off his jaw and splashing onto the pavement. 

Sarah untangled herself from Katherine and gently guided Davey to sit on the floor, letting him sob against the shoulder of her shirt. She didn’t know what he’d been through, but if it had resulted in Jack getting shot then it was clearly more traumatic than the rest of their experiences combined. She didn’t want to think about how close her little brother might have been to death. A thousand questions about where they’d been and how badly hurt Jack was were bubbling up inside her, but Davey didn’t look fit to answer any of them. His sobs didn’t last long but tremors still ran up and down his limbs and she was sure his silence was an attempt to stifle more tears.

Watching Sarah comfort Davey, Katherine took long, deep breaths. They’d all made it out alive. She was sure Sarah would work out the odds of that later, but right now, with a school she knew housed dead bodies looming in front of her, it seemed like the greatest gift she’d ever been given. There were probably going to be empty seats in some of her lessons when school returned to normal, whenever that was, but the people she called her friends, and the girl she loved, were all alive and safe, and that was pretty damn close to a miracle.


End file.
